Thika, Kenya – Knitting was a childhood hobby of Mary Mwangi, a tall and talkative woman who runs a tailoring shop in Thika town in Kenya’s Kiambu County. But it was only in 2017, when she was bedridden for 11 months after having cancer treatment, that she picked it up again.

The first time Mwangi was diagnosed, it was with spine cancer. Housebound and wanting to pass the time, she decided to knit hats, which she ended up donating to cancer patients at Kenyatta National Hospital.

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Then the next year, in 2018, her world was shaken when she was diagnosed again – this time with stage-three breast cancer.

“I felt like it was the end of me when the diagnosis came out,” said the 52-year-old mother of three, who recalls being “terrified” at the news.

She isolated herself from friends and family and even turned off her phone. “I told my husband that I don’t want to interact with anyone; the world felt so violent.”

Mwangi had to undergo a mastectomy – a surgical removal of part or all of a breast – and 33 sessions of radiotherapy. In all, she was in treatment for four years, losing her hair and her savings in the process.

“I had taken a 1.3-million-Kenyan-shilling (about $10,000) loan to expand my business as a tailor, and all was swept [away] by treatment,” she lamented.

Added to the physical and financial devastation was the social discrimination.

Though the mastectomy helped save her life, it brought stigma in her community in central Kenya, some 40km (24.8 miles) northeast of the capital Nairobi.

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“People referred to me as the woman whose breasts were cut,” said Mwangi, who was declared cancer-free in 2020. “Losing them affects your dignity.”

She soon realised that she wasn’t the only one: While at the cancer ward of a local hospital, she noticed other women were hiding their chests under big scarves and baggy clothes. When she spoke to them, she learned that they, too, had undergone mastectomies.

Although there are several cancer survivor support groups in Kenya that offer screening and counselling services, some of them for free, experts say the public health system often lacks adequate oncology and follow-up care, with many survivors left to navigate recovery on their own.

Determined to help others like herself, Mwangi thought of what got her through her illness: knitting. And then she came up with an idea to support survivors while earning money: knitted breast prostheses made of colourful cotton yarn.

At a cancer support group she attended while ill, one of the sessions taught the participants to make yarn breast prostheses. Mwangi learned the basics from there and later watched tutorials on YouTube before she began practising to perfect her craft.

“Thank God for knitting. It was a form of simple therapy for me,” Mwangi said. “It took my mind away from thinking about [the cancer].”

Physical and psychological care

Breast cancer is the most common cancer in women globally, according to the World Health Organization. Kenya’s National Cancer Institute says it affects more than 6,700 women in the country every year.

Many undergo mastectomies and are left searching for prosthetic breasts.

But in Kenya, one silicone prosthetic costs an estimated 22,000 Kenyan shillings ($170) according to Mwangi, making them unaffordable to many – more than 40 percent of Kenya’s population lives below the international poverty line of $3 per day, according to the World Bank.

Mwangi sells each prosthetic she knits for 1,500 Kenyan shillings ($11,60).

They come in different sizes and colours and are filled with yarn before being placed into specially adapted bras with pockets, which are sold separately for between 1,000 ($7.74) and 2,000 Kenyan shillings ($15.49) each.

Mwangi produces about 50 pieces a week, and to date, has sold about 600 breast prostheses, as well as more than 450 knitted hats for cancer patients.

She sells her products in cash at her shop, but also in bulk to organisations she has partnered with – like Milele Health, Kenyatta National Hospital and Childhood Cancer Initiative – who then donate them to survivors.

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This has helped her rebuild her business, while also continuing to aid those in need.

Mwangi also tries to help through the New Dawn Cancer Warriors support group she leads, which brings survivors together to share their stories.

She recounts the day a 33-year-old survivor called Jane joined the group, at first sitting at the back of the room, too nervous to speak.

When Mwangi spoke to her privately, she learned that her confidence had dropped since having a mastectomy. So she encouraged her, making her see that the loss of a breast does not devalue a woman, and also donated a knitted prosthesis to help her. Slowly, she says, Jane regained her confidence, and after five months, she was sitting at the front during group meetings and contributing. Today, Mwangi says her self-esteem and courage have returned.

Joy Kulet, a psychologist in Kenya who sees many women who have had mastectomies, says knitted prosthetics not only provide an affordable solution, but also help restore self-confidence.

“Losing a breast for a woman is more than physical; it is psychological,” she said.

‘Knitting gave me purpose’

In Thika town, the sound of busy sewing machines can be heard from outside Mwangi’s tailoring shop.

Inside, finished clothes hang on the wall near two women focused on sewing. Once in a while, they exchange jokes and laugh heartily as their experienced hands continue feeding fabric into their machines.

As the sewing continues, Mwangi sits nearby, knitting a prosthetic breast. When she finishes, she immediately begins stuffing it with wool-like fibre, before moving on to make another piece.

Beside her, the colourful knitted breast prostheses are on display on a table.

Most of the breast prostheses Mwangi sells have been made by her, but some – especially when she receives big orders – are made by women she’s trained, who she hires to help with the knitting.

Since January, Mwangi says she has taught more than 200 women to knit during informal lessons she holds in her tailoring shop.

“Knitting has not only saved me, it has also given me purpose,” said Mwangi.

Among those she has trained is 46-year-old Hannah Nungari Mugo, a former vegetable trader at Thika market and also a breast cancer survivor.

Mugo underwent a mastectomy, chemotherapy and radiotherapy in 2019. As her hair fell out and her body became weak, her husband took out a 500,000 Kenyan shilling ($3,800) loan to keep them afloat.

“It consumed all the savings we had,” she said.

But like Mwangi, the stigma that followed was one of the worst parts of the experience, she says. In her neighbourhood, people saw her as “fragile” and excluded her from activities.

“I joined [Mwangi’s] training and after just a few weeks, I had the basics,” she said. She now makes approximately seven prostheses a week to sell at Mwangi’s store, which earns her an income to support her family.

Sharing stories is ‘part of healing’

The workshops aren’t just for breast cancer survivors. Others struggling with different health conditions have also participated, like 58-year-old Mary Patricia Karobia, who uses the opportunity to share her own story of stigma and survival.

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In 2011, she was diagnosed with liver fibrosis and underwent a successful liver transplant. But just like Mwangi and Mugo, discrimination awaited.

“People were whispering that my liver was removed,” she said, recalling that she was excluded from activities and duties at women’s events, as she was believed to be too weak to contribute.

She felt marginalised. But then she came across Mwangi and her space that enabled women to talk about their experiences with others going through something similar, and she was inspired to join.

“I now knit four [prostheses] each week,” Karobia said. “Apart from earning me an income, making prosthetics gives me joy as I am helping breast cancer survivors regain their self-esteem.”

“The healing journey [from cancer] is unique for each individual. For some, it is smooth, but others relapse along the way,” said Kulet, the psychologist, adding that community support groups like Mwangi’s are essential.

“Sharing their story is part of healing,” she said, especially in spaces where survivors can share openly without fear of judgement.

Mwangi considers her work to be part of the larger healing process for breast cancer survivors who have undergone mastectomies. She says she has witnessed improved self-esteem and courage in many of the women who have acquired the prostheses – something that makes her proud.

For now, due to space constraints, Mwangi’s training workshops can only accommodate four people at a time. And financially, she is limited: she can’t register as a training school due to a lack of funds; the price of yarn also fluctuated a few times this year – from 450 Kenyan shillings ($3.40) to almost double that – forcing her to sometimes raise prices.

But she remains hopeful.

“My dream is to train as many cancer survivors as possible in Kenya,” she said. She wants them all to have their own independent businesses one day, so that hopefully, they too can “earn a living through knitting”.

This piece was published in collaboration with Egab.